


wants vs needs

by krystallisert



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Not Beta'd, Reader-Insert, don't read it lmao, if this is half as frustrating to read as it was to write then..., introverted!tsukki, kind of, yamaguchi best boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystallisert/pseuds/krystallisert
Summary: In which Tsukishima learns the differences between wants and needs, and finds that maybe they aren't that different after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxkindle (crkdd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crkdd/gifts).



> i lost a lot of my notes on this, so to summerize: 
> 
> \- very headcannon-y and introspective, sorry if it feels ooc, people who have read da capo might know that i really like to go waaaay beyond in my characterizations lmao  
> \- also sorry about the 'she' instead of 'you', i just really liked the way it felt better that way  
> \- this exists because of foxkindle, who left a really nice comment for me on da capo, so i hope they at least somewhat enjoys it, thank you for the comment and also for waiting, it's like four months since i said i'd write tsukki  
> \- LONG note at the end of this if anyone is curious about my thought process when writing this  
> \- considering writing this from yamaguchi's perspective since this is very in tsukki's head, let me know if there's any interest for something like that

– **Initially, she's Yamaguchi's friend**. He first introduces her when she enters the gym at the end of practice; tentatively and silently as not to interrupt. She smiles – a toothy, white grin that could put even the sun to shame – when Yamaguchi calls her name, greets the volleyball team with the grace and ease of someone who's confident enough to enter a room full of strangers and surprises the boys by already knowing all their names.  
  
Tsukishima would be lying if he tried to deny that he's part surprised, part impressed by the fact that Yamaguchi manages to be friends with a girl without blushing and stuttering like an idiot. Lo and behold: his freckled friend approaches the girl without stumbling, talks to her with an easy smile, and doesn't even fidget before touching her shoulder lightly. He doesn't know _who she is_ , which bothers him more than he's willing to admit. When did Yamaguchi get other friends than him? She can't be his girlfriend, because god knows Yamaguchi couldn't keep something like _that_ to himself, but something about the ease at which they talk to each other makes Tsukishima feel slightly off-kilter.  
  
The boys are all curious, as impressed as Tsukishima, it seems, and they flock around her like a pack of wolves around a rabbit. Somehow, she still looks like the most dangerous animal there, which is admittedly not an easy feat when surrounded by boys who are too caught up in their sport to realize there are _girls_ out there in the world. To be fair, Tsukishima is curious, too, but he stays put a few feet away, watches from a safe distance as she introduces herself to the team and Yamaguchi explains how they met. He doesn't even think she knows he's there until her eyes _zip_ towards him.  
  
Tsukishima's always been observant, so he doesn't fail to notice how her gaze lingers on him for one, two, three seconds too long, and something in his chest flutters uncomfortably.  
  
  
**– Tsukishima takes comfort in facts** , even if they're not in his favor. This is why he doesn't mind the fact that despite Hinata's height and lack of intellect, the ginger is destined to surpass him in skill on the court. He doesn't like it, but it's a fact, it's known and somehow understandable, and after mulling it over, Tsukishima thinks he's okay with it. He has his uses, too.  
  
He can't seem to find any facts regarding the too-long-gaze from Yamaguchi's friend. He thinks and he thinks and he can't figure it out.  
  
(He thinks and he thinks, and when he looks at the digital clock on his bedside table, he's been awake for three hours and he doesn't understand why he can't get her stare out of his head.)  
  
  
**– If he thinks their encounter can be written off as a one-off,** Tsukishima soon finds himself mistaken. He doesn't even know how it happened, but suddenly she's _everywhere_. She watches them practice, she walks with them after school, and before he can even blink, Tsukishima's number is in her contact list. It's like he's suddenly gotten another (albeit prettier and more confident) Yamaguchi to worry about, and with all the smiles and giggles surrounding him these days, it's a wonder Tsukishima hasn't gone mad yet.  
  
It's not that he minds, really, he just feels like he's been sleepwalking for the last few weeks and the notion of not being able to keep up is new to him. It annoys him at first; if Yamaguchi wants to pick up girls, he can do it in his own damn time, but Tsukishima quickly realizes that there's no romantic interest there for either of them, and it's not like she doesn't have any sort of merit.  
  
She's a smart girl, Tsukishima is more than pleased to find out he doesn't need to offer any kind of help during study sessions, and she can verbally spar with him as well as the next guy. He pushes, makes fun of her handwriting or scoffs when she talks about her favorite musician, but she just seems to _feed_ on it, every off-hand comment making her smile larger and larger. She pulls, too, coaxing the groans out of him with terrible puns and kicking him under the table when he says something she finds particularly offensive.  
  
“If you roll your eyes any harder, they might get stuck,” she warns him, wagging her finger dramatically. Yamaguchi snickers, and Tsukishima scowls.  
  
And so it goes.  
  
  
**– Tsukishima isn't like Yamaguchi** , who freely gives out compliments and notices the tiny things (“Oh, is that sweater new? It looks nice on you!” he had said once, and her smile seemed to light up the room). It's not really that he _wants_ to be like his shorter friend, it's just that when the two boys stand beside each other, the difference becomes so clear.  
  
The two of them fit, in a way. They both always smile, and they both seem to respond so well to casual touches and easily given compliments. It makes Tsukishima feel so _other_ , so misplaced, and he wonders if in time, they're going to realize that three's a crowd, and that Tsukishima's the odd one out.  
  
Well, he doesn't need neither of them, they both kind of forced themselves into his personal bubble anyway and he's sure he'll be able to focus on more important things once they leave, so really it's for the best and –  
  
“Oh yeah,” she suddenly ducks under the table and rummages through her bag, emerging a moment later with a stack of DVDs that she drops in front of Tsukishima with an ungraceful _smack_. Tsukishima can't say he's been following the conversation between the two others – the way they drift from one topic to the other so fluidly confuses him more often than not – and he's not sure how they went from discussing math homework to this (quite frankly) ridiculous stack of DVDs now wobbling unsteadily on top of his textbook. _How did she even fit all of those in her bag?_  
  
The surprise must be showing on his face, because she laughs; a light and fluttery thing that carries through the cafe and echoes in his ears. She does that a lot – laughs at him – and he feels like he should be summoning up some scathing words, or at least some sort of icy look, but an arch of an eyebrow is the best he can manage. It'll have to do.  
  
“Yamaguchi mentioned that you hadn't watched this show yet,” she explains, and there's something sort of unsettling about the casual admission that they talk about him when he isn't there that Tsukishima can't put his finger on. “I think you'd really like it!”  
  
And well, despite the underlying panic that arises when he wonders what else she's been chatting with Yamaguchi about behind his back, Tsukishima can't help the warmth that pools in the pit of his stomach as his eyes flits from the pile of DVDs and the girl now partially hidden behind them – by now back into a deep, philosophical discussion with Yamaguchi about.. a cat video? – easy smile fixed on her face.  
  
He binge-watches the whole show over the course of a week and tells her (with a practiced shrug and a carefully blank face) that it was alright.  
  
Her smile is so wide he almost fears that her face will split, and, uh – what was he saying?  
  
  
**– “Are you dating the girl who comes to see you sometimes?”** Hinata asks Yamaguchi during practice a week later, while Tsukishima is taking large gulps of water and Yamaguchi is drying his face with a towel. Tsukishima's chest doesn't tighten with the fact that this very question inexplicably has been on his mind lately (inexplicably, because he knows better than anyone else that Yamaguchi only has eyes for a certain barista at the cafe they frequent), and the only reason he feels the pang of annoyance is the suggestive way Hinata keeps wiggling his eyebrows.  
  
That's the truth, he swears.  
  
Yamaguchi blinks as if confused, and looks from Hinata to Tsukishima before laughing.  
  
“What? No!” he exclaims, almost as if it's an outlandish question (Pfft, Yamaguchi should be so lucky, he thinks, and – wait, no, don't think too hard on that). “No, we're just friends.” Tsukishima doesn't feel a wave of relief at that, he tells himself stubbornly. Nope, not at all. “I think she likes someone else, anyways,” Yamaguchi adds softly, glancing at his taller friend, and Tsukishima's hand chooses that precise moment to involuntarily clench tightly around his bottle, water spurting out and hitting the floor with a splash.  
“Whoa!” Hinata yelps, startled, and Yachi dashes over with a towel, sputtering something or other about slippery floors and concussions. Tsukishima is more worried about his heart, and the beat that seems way too fast, too hard to be healthy, and he almost misses it when Yamaguchi asks if he's okay.  
  
He's _not_.  
  
  
**– He can't help looking at her sort of differently after that.** Can you tell if someone's in love, Tsukishima wonders, tries to watch out for any sign on her face that would prove or disprove Yamaguchi's statement. He _has_ watched a romantic movie now and then – only because his brother has some weird obsession with them, of course – and he can't find any of the telltale signs he's always seen in them. She doesn't look forlornly out the window or sigh distantly. She doesn't blush or smile inexplicably, and her mood is pretty stable.  
  
But then, she _always_ smiles, doesn't she? There's always this little crinkle in the corner of her eyes, as if she just can't help the upwards turn of her lips, as if even the simple equation on her page brings some sort of bizarre joy to her day. She greets the waiters and affectionately ruffles Yamaguchi's hair when she sits down and playfully kicks Tsukishima in the leg under the table.  
Whatever social life she has outside of him and Yamaguchi, she doesn't talk about it much, and after what Tsukishima feels is a more than thorough investigation, he thinks Yamaguchi might just have been mistaken.  
  
She's the first to leave (why? – does she have a date?) and the boys watch her go, Yamaguchi returning her small wave and pleasant smile, and Tsukishima trying to not stare at her retreating form.  
  
“Hey, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi says the second she's out the door, like he's been holding it in and it forces it's way out his mouth. “Do you like her or something?” Tsukishima doesn't need to _try_ for his face to look blank, if slightly annoyed – it's his resting face, after all – but he does need to fight off the color that threatens to paint his cheeks, and the unbidden crack in his voice doesn't give him the bite intended when he says:  
  
“What?”  
  
Yamaguchi grins, looks awfully smug as he does it, and he leans back in his chair before huffing out a laugh. He looks like he's just solved a puzzle, really, like he just found the last missing jigsaw piece that had fallen under the couch or something, and Tsukishima feels defensive anger simmering in the back of his head. He's about to bite back, to tell him to _shut the fuck up_ , when Yamaguchi speaks again.  
  
“You should just tell her,” he says. Tell her _what?_ So typical of Yamaguchi to just draw his own conclusions. Tsukishima likes being alone. Having to adjust himself to fit someone else's emotions is too stressful, not worth the payout, and just because he feels lighter whenever she looks at him doesn't mean he _likes_ her. He _tolerates_ her, just like he tolerates Yamaguchi, and he sure doesn't have a _crush_ on either of them.  
  
And if he's got a collection of notes (“you should totally watch this show, episode three blew my mind!”, the most recent one says – hey, he can't help it if he's got good memory) neatly tucked away in the drawer of his bedside table, then that's not really Yamaguchi's business, is it? And okay, maybe he finds her presence pleasant in a way that can be _misconstrued_ as not simply platonic, it doesn't matter, because –  
  
“I'm like _ninety-nine point nine_ percent sure she's got a crush on you,” the way Yamaguchi winks at the end of that sentence makes Tsukishima _twitch_ with the _absolute need_ to punch him in the face, but he's too distracted by the actual content of the sentence to get his hand to move. A- a crush. On him. Tsukishima. That's..  
  
That's unfortunate.   
  
  
**– Her eyes bore into him, makes him want to run away.** He feels scrutinized, too open, like she can read his thoughts by glaring hard enough. He tries to meet her gaze, tries to stare her into submission, make her feel caught or embarrassed, but he ends up yielding every time. It's a new feeling, losing a staring contest, Tsukishima is used to being the intimidating one, but her mouth just twists into a mischievous grin and he looks back down at his homework.  
  
He's not used to being alone with her, that's all it is. Damn Yamaguchi for excusing himself from the study-slash-lunch meeting last minute, and damn Tsukishima for not just going home himself.  
  
“You're staring at me,” he says at last, hoping the accusation will make her feel awkward enough to stop. She hasn't turned a page in her book for at least five minutes, and Tsukishima feels like there's ants under his skin. It's not a wholly uncomfortable feeling, but it's a new one, and he doesn't quite know how to process it.  
“Oh, am I?” her grin stretches into something that makes Tsukishima's stomach jump. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”  
  
_Yes_ , he almost says, the word on the tip of his tongue before he can even help himself. But he looks at her face and sees a challenge, and if she's intent on pushing then he's gonna push right the fuck back. Distantly, his brain tells him it's a bad idea, that it's not fair of him to use what Yamaguchi said about her against her, but Tsukishima is _frustrated_. He's sick of not being able to read her, of feeling like he's not in charge, and of the jittery, restless feeling in the back of his neck whenever she looks at him.  
“No,” he says the word slowly, deliberately, dragging the syllable out. “I just figured it might make _you_ uncomfortable.”  
“How so?”  
  
“It makes your crush on me really obvious,” he regrets saying it the moment the words are out. She looks a bit shell shocked, a little unraveled (eyes widen just a fraction, lips a straight line with no curves – so that's what her face looks like when it's not competing to outshine the sun), and Tsukishima swears it's the first time her face has ever betrayed any insecurities she might be hiding underneath that constant smile of hers. But it doesn't last long; she exhales and leans back in her seat, eyes not leaving him for a second, and then the smile is back. There's a glint in her eyes that wasn't there before, and somehow Tsukishima feels like he's stepped right into a trap.  
“Can't be that obvious if you didn't notice until now,” she says, unbothered by the fact that she basically just admitted to having feelings for him. Tsukishima's ears are burning and he feels so hot it's a wonder his glasses aren't fogging up. She takes a few of the fries on his plate, does a weird eyebrow-wiggle-thing, Tsukishima looks down.  
  
And, well, she's got him there.  
  
  
**– Yamaguchi is annoyed with him.** It doesn't happen often, but Tsukishima always notices when it does. That's the thing about people like Yamaguchi, you can always tell. Not that the freckled boy is trying to hide it; if glares could kill, Tsukishima would be six feet under by the end of first period. But if Yamaguchi thinks Tsukishima is going to give him the satisfaction by asking _why_ he's so pissed, he is sorely mistaken. It's been a while since he's been able to eat lunch in peace anyways.  
  
Not that he _needs_ to ask. Here's the other thing about people like Yamaguchi: they just can't keep their emotions to themselves. So when the boy stomps over after practice and throws his arms up dramatically, Tsukishima is not surprised.  
“I didn't tell you that she likes you so you could make fun of her!” Tsukishima honestly doesn't get why Yamaguchi is so upset over it, _she_ sure hasn't acted any different since their little moment at the cafe. She shows up to study with them as usual, she texts Tsukishima _a lot_ about this new show she's been watching on Netflix, and to be honest, Tsukishima kinda thought he'd been imagining the whole thing with how _not-different_ everything's been. When he tells his friend this he earns himself an exasperated sigh.  
  
“What's she supposed to do? She thinks you don't like her,” he doesn't. He _doesn't_.  
“I don't,” he doesn't he doesn't he doesn't. His chest hurts and he feels dizzy, almost misses the annoyed pinch of Yamaguchi's eyebrows and the downwards pull of his mouth.  
  
“Well, okay, then,” he says, hesitatingly dragging the syllables out, as if trying out speech for the first time and considering how the words should sound. “Good, I guess. I think there was some guy trying to pick her up at her school anyways.” Yamaguchi shrugs and leaves, but not before he's given his tall friend a _very_ meaningful glance.  
  
Ah, yes, okay. _Good_.  
  
No, wait!  
  
What just happened here?  
  
  
**– Okay, so, he likes her. A little.** Contrary to popular belief, Tsukishima _isn't_ some sort of otherworldly creature that doesn't feel emotions, and his pool of emotions _isn't_ limited to disdain and arrogance. And Tsukishima isn't a child, he can admit to himself when he feels something less than desirable. He's not going to do anything about it anyways, it's just a feeling, it'll pass by itself. Sooner rather than later, he hopes.  
  
To be honest, it's a hope that's somewhat dwindling as he looks over at her from across the table as she bites the end of her pencil. Emotions, annoying as they are, tend to hit him hard. Sure, there's always this underlying feeling of annoyance that seems to follow him wherever he goes, but when he gets mad, he gets _mad_. When he's pleased with himself, it oozes out of him in the form of arrogance and smug grins. And as it turns out, once he happens to develop a tiny, microscopic crush on someone, he. can't. stop. thinking. about it. He doesn't _want_ it, is the bottom line of it. He wants it to go away quietly like it's supposed to so he can think about something more productive – something that makes sense.  
  
Instead, all he can focus on is that it's quiet. That is to say, the table is quiet. There are a myriad of other patrons in the cafe who are as noisy as they usually are, but ever since Yamaguchi left the table to order something to eat (and probably stall for time by awkwardly flirting with the dude behind the counter, Tsukishima guesses by how long he's been gone) their booth has been covered in a thick blanket of heavy silence.  
  
Tsukishima usually knows how to appreciate silence. Tension-free, comfortable silence, with no need for awkward chitchat or glances that lasts too long. Uncomplicated. This is something he's appreciated about the girl in front of him; for all her bad jokes and loud laughs, she doesn't feel the need to fill any silence that appears with pleasantries. It's always been a good thing, a solid reason for their kind-of-friendship, but as he watches her now, the only thing Tsukishima manages to concentrate on is Yamaguchi's words from earlier that week.  
  
She twirls a lock of hair around her pinkie. _I think there was some guy trying to pick her up at her school anyways.  
_ She leans closer to her textbook to read a particularly difficult equation. _I think there was some guy trying to pick her up at her school anyways.  
_ She lets her gaze wander to the window, a soft smile gracing her features. _I think there was some guy trying to pick her up at her school anyways._

  
“Yamaguchi says someone's trying to pick you up,” he says, the words out before he can even think to filter them out, and shit if he doesn't sound bitter when he says it. It's an echo of his thoughts that comes out like something between a snarl and a scoff, and she looks up at him for the first time in thirty-seven minutes (not that he was counting) and arches an eyebrow.  
“Yamaguchi seems to say a lot of things,” she responds after an eternity of staring blankly at him. Tsukishima doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. She rolls her eyes with such force that he's almost worried they'll get stuck at the back of her head, and then she exhales dramatically before leaning back in her seat. Somewhere, in a world outside the little bubble that is their booth, Yamaguchi's awkward laughter erupts from by the counter.  
  
“Well?” she prompts, not breaking eye contact. The back of Tsukishima's neck feels hot. “I'm sure there's a reason you're bringing it up.” There isn't. For a brief moment, Tsukishima considers if he could get away with just leaving. Yamaguchi would probably get his stuff, and it's not like he _has_ to do his homework _right now_ . This must be how Yamaguchi feels, he thinks; skittery and uncertain, too small for his skin. It's _uncomfortable_ .  
  
“There's a movie,” he chokes out, forces out of his mouth just because he _needs_ to say something. It feels like his mouth is full of honey, the words tumble awkwardly out of his mouth like he couldn't keep them in even if he tried. What the fuck does that even mean, a _movie_ ? She seems to be waiting for him to explain himself, too, but his mouth is glued shut.  
  
“A movie?” she supplies unhelpfully, sounding the word out as if he's speaking another language. To be fair, Tsukishima doesn't know what the hell he's talking about either. Which, had he been more like Yamaguchi, is exactly what he'd say, but he's _not_ like Yamaguchi at all, so he does the exact opposite and pretends to know where the fuck he's going with this instead. Well, almost.  
“Yes.”  
  
“Like, at the movies?” she says, seemingly taking pity on him for his pathetic attempt at putting more than three words together to form a sentence.  
“Sure.”  
  
“And?” at this point, her eyebrow might as well be permanently arched. He's got the distinct feeling that she's trying to pull the words out of him, knowing full well herself where this is going, but he supposes he kind of owes it to her.  
“And,” it's strange how words can feel so solid sometimes. Logically, he knows they're no heavier than the air he pushes and pulls in and out of his lungs, but they feel like heavy, as if he needs a rope to drag them out of him. “you could come.”  
  
“You're meeting Yamaguchi there, then?”  
“Yamaguchi's not joining.”  
  
There's a long silence.  
  
“Are you asking me on a date?”  
“Whatever.”  
“Don't lead me on, Tsukishima.”  
  
His ears are hot. His skin is pretty much on fire, and he's still considering running away, but he takes a long, measured breath instead, tries to put on a face of nonchalance.  
“I'm asking you on a date,” the words are out in a garbled mess of inhales and exhales, and he's never been fucking happier to see Yamaguchi's stupid grin as he returns with his food, a number and a smiley face scribbled on his milkshake. She's immediately sidetracked, wiggling her eyebrows at the freckled boy and laughing heartily when he blushes like a tomato, but Tsukishima doesn't fail to notice that once they settle down once again, she bites her lip, not quite able to keep herself from smiling. It's not an uncommon sight, her smile, but as Tsukishima watches her very deliberately staring down at her homework and hiding her mouth behind her hand, a warmth spreads in his chest. He did that. That smile is his.  
  
It's a good feeling.  
  
(It's almost worth the humiliation.)  
  
**  
– He wonders, standing at the entrance to the movie theater,** if it's natural to feel so averse to human contact as he does. There are couples everywhere, holding hands, kissing cheeks, leaning on each other as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He doesn't _fit_ .  
  
“There you are,” a voice says from right next to him, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looks over and something in his chest goes _poof_ . He _knows_ she's pretty, he's not blind, but it feels like he somehow forgot and is looking at her for the first time again. “Good thing you're so tall, 'cause you suck at picking up your phone.” He blinks, pulls his phone out of his pocket, and is surprised to see he's got three missed calls. Fine, so maybe he's nervous. Whatever.  
  
“Well, come on, then. Wouldn't wanna miss the previews,” she grabs his wrist and drags him along, throwing him a face splitting grin as she does.  
**  
** It's cute, she's cute, what do you want from him? It makes his chest do a weird sort of squeeze that encourages him to either hightail it out of there as fast as he can or maybe – if he were some sort of weirdo who enjoyed 'putting himself out here' – take her hand and hold onto it hard enough to break it. But he isn't, so he doesn't, and he settles instead for stealing glances at her every so often throughout the movie. **  
  
  
– Expectations. That's the root of Tsukishima's problem. ** He doesn't know what she expects of him, if he should somehow alter his behavior. She hasn't said anything, even if he doesn't touch her unless prompted to and even if they've just went back to the usual structure of her texting him about things he might care a bit more about than he lets on and frequent meetings at the cafe where Yamaguchi's handsome (Yamaguchi's words, not Tsukishima's) barista works.  
  
There are some subtle differences, of course. Like how Yamaguchi shows up less and less, more often than not coming up with some excuse for skipping out to study on his own. Just as well, Tsukishima thinks, because after the dreamy (her words, not Tsukishima's) barista started responding to Yamaguchi's pathetic attempts at flirting, Tsukishima seemed to be the only one of them to get any actual _work_ done what with Yamaguchi being to busy ogling the poor boy serving coffees and their female companion constantly giggling and teasing. And Tsukishima can't _concentrate_ when she does that –  
  
Regardless. They meet up at the cafe, do their homework mostly in silence and then they part ways. She still stares more than is strictly necessary and there was this one time when she reached out to take some of his fries just as he was grabbing some himself and their hands touched and it felt like lightning under his skin and he couldn't stop thinking about it when he went to bed that night but – _other than that.._   
  
_Okay_ , there's one other thing that _definitely_ has changed.  
  
He finds her by the standing by the gates once school is over. This is not new, somehow she manages to always be there once the bell rings, waiting for Tsukishima and Yamaguchi to join her. On this particular day, though, Yamaguchi is home with the flu. She knows this of course, because the three of them has a facebook group chat that Tsukishima muted weeks ago but still checks up on a few times a day. The other two seems to use it religiously, though, and last time Tsukishima checked, the chat was full of hearts and 'get well' wishes and a man with a fish head making a kissy face.  
  
He probably should have still expected her to be there, but he still feels a jolt in his spine when he spots her. Furthermore, she's not alone. Resident girl-chasers Nishinoya and Tanaka are chatting her up, and Tsukishima is sort of reluctantly impressed by how two guys (one of them a head shorter than the girl in question, even) manage to crowd someone like that. She doesn't look like she minds, smiling as bright as ever and twirling a lock of hair around her index finger.  
  
The sight makes him inexplicably angry. He doesn't want to think on it too hard, but there's something about how easily she socializes with other people that gets under his skin. So Tsukishima does what he does best, he ignores it. Ignores her – them – all together and just walks right past them out the gates. He hears Nishinoya call after him and her sputtering out goodbyes, and tells himself that he does not consciously slow down.  
  
“You're in a good mood today,” she says as way of greeting once she's caught up with him, and he chooses to ignore her in favor of glaring at the back of the person walking in front of them. She sighs, doesn't say anything and Tsukishima wonders when the silences between them got so awkward. He feels the need to say something, but his head is covered in a dark, irritated cloud, and he ends up putting the metaphorical foot in his mouth instead of adding anything of substance to the conversation.  
  
“Wouldn't want to interrupt,” he grumbles, and she instantaneously stops in her tracks. He swallows the urge to stop and look back at her, keeps going instead.  
“Wait,” she calls after him, disbelief coating her voice. “Are you jealous?”  
  
And it sort of clicks, then, in his head, that _yes_ ; that's the irrationally angry emotion he's been steeping in ever since he stepped out of the school. The realization immediately puts him on the defense, and he swirls around with every intent of biting her head off. But the way she looks at him, head tilted and mouth twitching, knocks all the air out of his lungs.   
  
“You're very passive,” she says. Passive. _Passive_ might be a word Tsukishima has never heard used to describe him, and for a moment he's teetering the brink of being offended. It's a pretty neutral word on it's own, nothing to glare about, but when used as a descriptor, it makes him sound like he never _does_ anything, like he just lets shit happen around him without interacting with it. Which is, admittedly, maybe not entirely untrue, but still. It's offensive. Offensive enough for him to coax out an appropriate amount of venom as he looks down at her and repeats the word back to her.  
“ _Passive_ .”  
  
He forgets to take into admission that she's been on the receiving end of his glare enough time to have worked up some sort of immunity, and apparently he also forgets that she, too, can conjure up her fair share of annoyance when she wants to. Instead of shrinking away, like he expects her to, her eyebrows draw down and she puts up a finger, wagging it towards his face.  
“I told you I liked you, and you didn't do anything about it until Yamaguchi told you someone else might be interested,” she puts a second finger up. “I basically have to force you to ask me out, something you'd rather die than talk about – no, see, you flinched right now – and nothing has changed after it either.”  
  
It's not that he doesn't get her point, because he does. It makes him feel small in a way that's entirely new to him, reminiscent of how he'd feel when his parents scolded him as a child.  
  
“And now you clearly has some issue with me talking with your teammates, but instead of _telling me_ , you just lumber off like some gloomy giraffe!”  
  
Weirdly comical imagery aside, Tsukishima does feel a bit guilty. There's two conflicting thoughts in his head; one tells him that he's completely justified in acting the way he is, because that's just _how he is_ , and if that's not good enough then she can just move along to some dunce who doesn't mind going out of his comfort zone to make her happy. But there's the other thought, the one that makes him look down at her and take in her features; how the annoyed glint in her eyes looks almost as alluring the glint that appears in her eyes when she's about to make a pun or tease Yamaguchi. This second thought that makes him notice her hands clenching and unclenching as if she's reining in some of the emotion slipping out through her expression.  
  
Both of the thoughts lead to the same question; is any of this really even worth the effort? He doesn't know. What's the point of change if it doesn't inherently improve anything for him? Relationships and feelings are fickle, and he's hesitant to do anything if he doesn't know the outcome beforehand.  
  
“I know you're not like this with Yamaguchi or your other volleyball pals, so I don't know what your problem with me is!”  
  
The _problem_ , simply put, is that he feels indifferent about the others. Yamaguchi would stick to his side like a puppy no matter what he did, and he couldn't care less if his teammates reacted badly to something he said or did. With her – he doesn't know. He doesn't know how she'll react to his words or actions, and further; how _he'll_ react to her reaction. They never talked about this in the movies, the dreadful feeling of uncertainty that seems to come packaged with emotions. Tsukishima's heard talks of butterflies and excitement, but all he feels is helpless.  
  
“I can't read your mind, Tsukishima, you have to tell me what you want.”  
  
Hard pass on that, he thinks, but he does – after a long internal deliberation and a few deep inhales – grab her hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling both of their hands into the pocket of his jacket. He can feel her pulse in the palm of his hand, vibrating and echoing his own quickened one. It's too hot in his pocket, his hand feels sweaty and it burns where their skin makes contact, but he doesn't let go until they part ways and he doesn't flinch away when she grabs his shoulders and tip toes to drop the lightest of kisses against his cheek.  
  
Instead, he commits her smile to memory, wonders about the feel of her lips against his skin and goes to bed with something fluttering about in his stomach.  
  
Okay. Okay, he can do that.  
  
  
**– “My mom wants to meet you,”** she says, months into their relationship. By now, Tsukishima has gotten used to holding her hand in public and calling her his girlfriend when someone asks. Personally, he thinks that's a lot of progress, but this 'my parents want to meet you'-thing that she just sprung on him still makes him want to push her out of the house and never let her in again.  
  
He looks at her from his desk. She's laying on his bed – it's probably going to smell like that perfume she uses – hands gripping the book she's been reading. Her knuckles are white and her mouth is a tight line, but he can see the uncertainty in her eyes. She looks as terrified as he feels.  
  
“It's been months,” she continues, fiddling with a page in her book. “And we're always here.”  
  
After Yamaguchi finally got his fairytale romance with the barista, and Tsukishima's relationship seemed to stabilize somewhat, they started going to Tsukishima's to study or watch movies (because that was the economically sound thing to do, obviously, it's not like Tsukishima wants to be more affectionate with his girlfriend but can't stomach PDA, and Yamaguchi was stupid for suggesting so) a few times a week. Introducing her to his family was easy, after all she's not the problem in the equation. He knows her and he knows his family, their reactions were predictable enough.  
  
He doesn't know _her_ family. He doesn't know their _expectations_ . Postponing it seemed like a good idea at the time, though he might have to admit that it's been going on for a bit long by now.  
  
“That's not my fault,” he says instead.  
  
“I'm not saying it's anyone's fault, I'm just asking you to do this for me!”  
  
She's sitting up now, book closed and forgotten beside her on the bed, and she seems to be struggling with what to say.  
  
“Seriously, Tsukishima, I've been more than willing to do this at your pace because I know this whole thing is hard for you, but-” she cuts herself off, and Tsukishima has the feeling that whatever words almost slipped out of her weren't particularly pretty. Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she rearranges herself on his bed, and Tsukishima's stomach turns to ice as her exhale comes out shaky. If she starts crying he might fling himself out the window. “I feel like no matter what I do, you-” again, she stops, sighs.  
  
It's weird, watching her face contort on all these different emotions that ghost over her features. Distantly, Tsukishima _knows_ he should say something. Passive, she'd called him, months ago, but he feels frozen more than anything. So he keeps his mouth shut as she sighs again, rises from the bed and looks down at him, still sitting stiffly by his desk. It's a strangely fitting role-reversal, and Tsukishima has never felt so small before.  
  
The silence seems to last a lifetime, like she's waiting for him to say something. The only sound in the room is the clock on bedside table, ticking and echoing in Tsukishima's ears.  
  
“I'm going home,” she finally says, voice carefully devoid of – of anything, really. It doesn't matter, her face says it all. Tsukishima's uncomfortably aware that he should get on his feet; they itch as if trying to urge him on, but he remains seated. Say something, he tells himself. It doesn't even matter what, just insult her hair or something, just speak. But he's already curled in on himself, and watches mutely as she gathers her things and shrugs on her jacket. She doesn't look at him before walking out of the door, closing it carefully.  
  
(He would have preferred it if she'd slammed it.)  
  
Tsukishima looks down at his desk and the papers in front of him, feeling weirdly empty.  
  
  
**– He doesn't hear from her after that.** Which is fine. It's _fine_ , it's not like he cared anyways. It's not like he's been lying awake at night wondering what he could've said or done to make her stay or anything. He didn't necessarily _want_ to be in a relationship in the first place, it was a stupid thought that stupid Yamaguchi put in his head.  
  
And yet – when the teacher asks him a question he's sure he knows the answer to but the only thing to come out of his mouth is an embarrassing squeak, and when he glares at himself in the mirror to find a matching set of purple bags under his eyes, Tsukishima might have to confess that he feels a bit lost.  
  
“I'm sure she'd forgive you if you'd just apologize,” Yamaguchi says during lunch three days later, as if he thinks he can read Tsukishima's mind or something. Tsukishima doesn't know what annoys him more; the fact that Yamaguchi thinks he would be so obsessed over a stupid fight with a stupid girl, or the fact that he's absolutely fucking right. “I'm surprised you didn't have a fight until now, to be honest.” And that's the stupidest thing about it, too, because was it a fight? It sure _feels_ like a fight, but one that neither of them really participated in. It feels like something that just happened to him.  
  
Passive, huh.  
  
It figures, he thinks, that she would leave eventually. He's awkward with affection and finds it easier to be alone, that didn't change just because he – dare he say it – developed _feelings_ for someone. It figures that she'd leave once she found that out. It's not something that surprises him, but somehow he had hoped it wouldn't. He doesn't _need_ her, he tells himself and knows it to be true, but he finds that he would have preferred her to stay regardless.  
  
_This_ is the realization that shakes him.  
  
  
**– He wallows in something between self-pity and anger for a while,** but she still doesn't text, call or show up at his door and he's starting to realize that maybe he's being a coward. _Passive_ . **  
**   
  
**– He ends up at her door** after days and days of arguing with himself. Tsukishima always thought himself too good for dramatic romantic gestures, but he figures he needs to do it, not just for her but for himself, too. He misses her, touchy-feelyness and all, and if being a sap is all he needs to do to get her back, as Yamaguchi seems to think it is, then he supposes he can endure that.  
  
(Boy how things have changed, he didn't even notice.)  
  
She opens the door roughly five seconds after he rings the bell, and the look on her face when she sees him would've been hilarious if he wasn't so terrified. She stares, mouth gaping and  
  
“Tsukishima?” she finally manages to choke out. She sounds like she doesn't quite believe that he's there. The thought makes him feel bad, because he really can't blame her for it; he can't quite believe he hasn't gone up in flames yet himself either.  
“Hi,” he starts. “I-”  
  
“Who is it, honey?” her mother yells from inside the house.  
“It's just Tsukishima, mom,” she yells back, and Tsukishima chooses to take the fact that she uses his name instead of something along the lines of 'my annoying and unwanted ex' as a good sign. He hears a squeal from inside that makes the girl in front of him groan.  
“Oh! Tell him to stay for dinner!”  
“Mom!” she yells, face red. “Not now!”   
  
“Sorry,” she mutters. “You were saying?” She looks so small, in her baggy pajama pants and her gigantic, oversized t-shirt. Has she always been that small?  
“Exciting evening planned, I see?” he says, and immediately curses himself for literally starting the conversation in which he plans to get on his knees ( _fuck he hopes she won't make him get on his knees_ ) if he has to with an insult.  
  
Thankfully, she just rolls her eyes and leans against the door frame.  
“Yes, it's nice to see you, too,” she says, and he's happy to hear at least a hint of playfulness in her voice. But it doesn't last. A shadow passes over her face, and she bites her lip (it reminds him of that time at the cafe, when he asked her out. But she smiled, then, and now there's just sadness etched onto her features that makes his chest ache).  
  
“Listen, Tsukishima, I l-” she abruptly stops, and her eyes widen just a fraction. His heart _thumps_ and jumps into his throat. “I care about you very much,” she continues once she's collected her thoughts. “But sometimes I feel like maybe-” she drags a hand through her hair, blinks three times in rapid succession. Oh, Tsukishima's seen _this_ in the movies. This is the part where the girl tells the boy she can't do it anymore.  
  
And maybe it's for the best, he tries to reason. Before all of this – how long has it been since he first saw her in the gym? Ten months, a year? – Tsukishima was sure of himself. He was comfortable alone and coasted on arrogance. Now he can't even recognize himself anymore. He feels, feels, feels – that's the problem, he feels so much at once but he can't process it. It would be _easier_ to just let it go now before it gets any worse. He doesn't need it.  
  
But he _wants_ it, and he finds that that's just as important.  
  
“Don't make me do this,” he _begs_ , all courage fizzed out and insecurities all that's left within him. Tsukishima isn't unfamiliar with wanting things. He wants to be the best at what he does, and he wants to have good enough grades to get into the school of his choice, get a career he enjoys. Sometimes he wants to be left alone, he wants his brother to stop fussing over him as if he was a child. There are big things he wants and small things he wants. He doesn't need them, but he thinks getting them would improve his life.  
“I'm not _making_ you do anything,” she says, sounding a little peeved, and he can't argue with that. In fact, she's never made him do anything, always letting him go at his own pace, seemingly content with just _being_ there.  
  
“I don't-” Tsukishima isn't one for heartfelt apologies or speeches, and as soon as he opens his mouth, he feels like he's _eating_ air. Like he can't open his mouth without being choked on something invisible. “I don't want you to break up with me.” he forces the words out, braces for rejection.  
  
She stares.  
  
“Break-” she cuts herself off with a sigh, runs her hand over her face. “I'm not dumping you, you dork!”  
“But you,” he stumbles. She isn't? Well, if he's being logical, she never did say anything about breaking up, but she- “you left,” he finishes tamely.  
“Because you annoyed me! I'm not gonna break up with you just because you're a jerk sometimes,” she says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Tsukishima feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He exhales, surprised to find his breath shaky, and when she laughs he swears he almost cries. He's been scared, he realizes, terrified of coming out of this weird relationship-limbo without a girlfriend. He doesn't know when that became a negative thing, but he blames the girl in front of him.  
“Sometimes I just,” she tentatively reaches out to grab his hand, a barely there touch like she's worried he might turn and run if she makes a sudden move. “It's so hard trying to guess what you want sometimes.”  
  
His immediate reaction is a want to pull his hand away, to get angry. To tell her that if he's so hard to figure out, if he makes her so tired, then she should just dump him right now. He doesn't need to be understood, has never asked for it, or her, or the warm feeling that spreads from his fingertips to his stomach when she touches him. He doesn't _get it_ , and it's _frustrating_ . But he fights the urge to curl in on himself and lash out, tries instead to understand the statement for what it is; an attempt to communicate. It's long overdue, he supposes.  
  
“I'm trying,” he finally gets out, the closest he manages to get to acknowledging his fault in the whole mess. It's not quite an apology, but then he's never been good at those. His mouth feels like a desert and his palms are sweaty. He hopes she doesn't notice when she squeezes his hand.  
“I know, sweetheart,” the term of endearment sends a chill down his spine that makes him shiver. He's always hated when people give him nicknames – it's too intimate, too close – but the way she says it, how vulnerable she sounds (he's always thought giving nicknames as a way of taking away someone's power, but she says 'sweetheart' like she's _giving away_ her power, he wonders how she does that), makes him squeeze her hand back.  
“It's hard to know when to push or when to pull with you sometimes,” she murmurs, hand gliding from her hand and up his arm to rest on his neck. It stops there,fingers resting against his skin, and her thumb rubs lightly over his pulse. “but I'm here as long as you want me to be.”  
  
Tsukishima _feels_ all the stress and anxiety leave his body, and suddenly all he can muster up is relief. As far as sappy, romantic gestures go, he's already on a roll, so he doesn't feel too awkward when he leans down and presses his lips against hers. She's too surprised to do anything at first, hand freezing against the side of his neck, so he amps it up a tad by cupping her face and pulling her closer. That seems to wake her up, and her hand curls around the back of his neck, tangling into his hair and _pulling_.  
  
They stay like that for a while, neither feeling the urge to escalate or pull back. It's a sort of _contentment_ that Tsukishima's not used to, and the tickling feeling beneath his skin is comfortable.  
  
“'Break up', he says,” she mumbles against his lips, fingers caressing his temples. He opens his eyes to find her staring at her with a trademark glint in her eyes. He ignores how hot his ears feel and how far, far, far inside his comfort zone she is, tries not to listen to that nagging voice inside him that's screaming at him to _get out, get away_ and focuses instead of the feel of her nimble fingers ghosting over his skin. “How could I ever dump such a good kisser?”  
  
He scoffs, leans back just in time as her mother appears in the hallway.  
“Are you staying for dinner, dear?” she asks, and Tsukishima can tell where his girlfriend – which she still is, he marvels at the thought – got his smile from. She looks like a pleasant lady, not at all the scary caricature he concocted in his head. His girlfriend ( _girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend_ ), on the other hand, looks like she's afraid he might turn and bolt right then and there.  
“I think Tsukishima has other plans, mom,” she quickly cuts in to spare Tsukishima from rejecting the offer himself. It's an out he ought to take, he thinks, but –  
  
“I'd love to stay for dinner.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here's my thought process. Tsukishima would be kind of a tsundere, yeah? Like, strictly speaking I feel like that's the archetype that would fit him the most. That might just be me, but I decided to run with it. So I thought, how to write a tsundere? A lot of people pair him up with a reader that's either very shy or a push-over, and I'm not really into writing that kind of character. I'm not saying it's anything wrong with that, but I just don't know how to write a believable character like that. I think the main problem for a person like Tsukki, and for the tsundere archetype in general, is that being distant and closed off emotionally gets really easy after a while. It makes opening up and letting people in seem not worth it, and you don't really know how to do it, you know? I feel like that's why the tsundere often ends up being rude and dismissive; it's more an automatic defense mechanism than anything else. I ended up really connecting with that on like a personal level, which is why this is like 6k words longer than it was supposed to, and also very self-indulgent. I haven't read any fanfics for Tsukishima I think, so I don't know how people like to write his character, but I'm guessing this is very different, so sorry about that lmao.
> 
> Anyways, for someone like that to enter a grown up, mature and healthy relationship, they'd need someone who lets them figure shit out as they go, who lets them set the pace but calls them out on their bullshit. That I'm basing on my own experiences with relationships, because while not being a 'tsundere', I'm pretty closed up emotionally as well, and being forced into a relationship scares the heck out of me, because I need a lot of time to get comfortable. From the outside, that ends up looking like the basic 'tsundere' character, so I wanted to write it from his POV instead, to kind of show how this process works in his head. I hope it turned out okay, I projected A LOT LMAO. I actually love Tsukishima a lot, but my idea of his internal thing is sooo close to my own, it makes it very hard to write.


End file.
